


A Different Kind Of Burn

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Rimming, Stubble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Mandy and I were discussing how we kind of want NYC!Blaine to let go on the manscaping a little and--well.  Nature took its course.</p><p>Stubble!fic was born.  Warnings for: rimming and beard burn in naughty places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind Of Burn

The thing is, he just doesn't have the time. It shocks him, because even at the busiest point of his high school career he made time. His schedule, locked down to the second, had been simultaneously the most OCD thing about him as well as the most impressive. So when he moves to New York and becomes a college student and everything seems to be designed to be impossible--balancing classes, rehearsals, auditions, and course work--he slowly begins to realize that he's just not going to be able to control his day the way that he used to at McKinley.

Especially not when you add "boyfriend" and "relationship rebuilding" into that equation.

The first thing to go is obsessive gelling. Not gelling entirely--he still hates his natural hair with the fire of a thousand suns and the thought of not styling it doesn't even occur to him. But he cuts the gel use by at least fifty percent, working the curls and puffy strands into a neat arrangement without slicking everything down into a helmet the way he had when control over every aspect of his appearance had been one of the things that kept him sane after he'd lost Kurt.

The second thing to go is constant body hair removal--he stops waxing his legs first.

Kurt says, "Please tell me you haven't been doing that for me all these years."

Blaine replies, "Not at all. But you did like it."

Kurt replies, "I liked everything about you. I don't care if you have a family of squirrels attached to either calf."

Blaine doesn't know how to admit that he had just been really, really obsessive about manscaping himself into something neater, cleaner, and softer. It had just been a thing for him. Control. Appearance. Success.

After that he stops waxing his entire chest and just keeps it neat, a trail here, a patch there, and at first it's scratchy and horrible but once it grows in he kind of likes it.

Kurt will linger sometimes, fingers tugging at the strands when they go to bed at night.

He stands back and looks at himself in the mirror and decides that he likes it. It makes him feel a little older, and the fact that the decision to change his routine had felt natural and all for himself makes him feel as if he's doing the right thing.

He's still pretty intense about shaving his face smooth every day. It's the last thing that he clings to, telling himself that it's just normal to want a clean shave. Most guys do, right?

But then one morning he spills coffee on his vest, thus destroying his free time, and he veers into oh crap I am going to be late territory, and has to cut the morning shaving routine. By the time he gets home that night he has serious stubble (his hair grows freakishly fast) which he forgets to take care of in between dinner and studying.

Kurt comes home on time. They aren't alone--Rachel is on her bed talking the phone--but Kurt drags Blaine into his portion of the loft anyway and pins him against the closet door and kisses him until they're both breathless.

"Good day?" Blaine breathes when they separate, cheeks flushed.

"Missed you," Kurt offers, shrugging in that coy, sweet way that makes Blaine's jaw tighten and his fingers ache with wanting to touch. Despite the fact that they'd only been broken up for a year and a half, he is constantly amazed by how much more mature Kurt seems now. He's almost never afraid to let Blaine know exactly what he wants, which had not always been the case before.

Kurt touches his jaw lightly, eyebrows going up. 

"I was late this morning."

"Friction burn," Kurt observes, licking his upper lip curiously. "Interesting and new."

"Good interesting or pass the medicated moisturizer interesting?" he asks, concerned, self-conscious.

Kurt smiles, kissing him again, slow and thorough, then smacking his lips in thoughtful observation. "Mm, I believe good."

Blaine gives himself a mental thumbs up and bounces a little on his toes.

And then Kurt kisses the corner of his mouth and whispers--as Rachel hangs up and shouts "Kurt, Blaine, we have to celebrate! Guys?"--"Might be interesting in other places."

He swans off into the common area of the loft, eyes on Blaine's until he's out of sight, and Blaine stands there clutching air, his face burning.

Well. That's--certainly something to think about.

And he does think about it, over the course of the rest of the week. He and Kurt rarely have the privacy they'd like to enjoy, but there are stretches of time where they have the loft to themselves (if they can manage to politely decline Rachel and Santana's invitations here and there) and that Saturday morning is one of those times. Kurt's yoga class gets cancelled and Blaine is so tempted--it's been too long--that he decides not to go to his Pilates class.

That's how he ends up pinning Kurt to the bathroom sink, latching onto the back of his neck like a lamprey.

Kurt wipes the last traces of toothpaste off of his mouth. "Alone?"

"Alone," Blaine answers, opening his mouth over Kurt's shoulder. "God, you feel so good."

He has two days of stubble--to be quite honest it's been hell suppressing the urge to shave it off, but remembering Kurt's reaction had been enough to keep him away from the razor. 

"You're scratchy," Kurt says, eyelids fluttering in pleasure as Blaine kisses his neck.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he replies, pushing his hands up and under Kurt's t-shirt. It's so much easier to get him undressed now that his wardrobe contains less layers.

To watch Kurt grow aroused in the mirror is too tempting (and he knows that Kurt gets shifty sometimes about being watched too intently), so he uses the pause to whip the shirt right over Kurt's head, letting his mouth find the soft, flexing skin between Kurt's shoulder blades. He kisses his way down, letting his stubble draw red patches all over that milky flesh, sinking lower, tonguing and kissing each knob of Kurt's spine all the way down, growing warm and turned on as Kurt lets him do this without a word.

Kurt's hands close tight around the edge of the sink and Blaine stares at his knuckles, watches them grow white as Blaine breathes warm and humid over his lower back. The dip there routinely sends Blaine into spasms of longing and it's no different now. He tongues the dimples there while he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Kurt's pajama bottoms.

"Blaine," comes the breathy exhale.

Kurt's back is a patchwork of paleness and beard burn. Blaine tries to catch his breath.

"Can I? It's been so long, Kurt," he replies, nuzzling his face against Kurt's left cheek. He smells like the organic shower gel he uses every morning, and the fine hairs at the base of his spine are standing on end.

"Please," Kurt breathes in reply, high-pitched and a little desperate. "Bed?" He doesn't sound sure.

Blaine ponders that while he peels the pajama bottoms down, letting them pool around Kurt's ankles as that beautiful, round, high ass is revealed. "We don't have to," he decides, finally, kissing the upturn of one cheek and then the other. "We have the whole place to ourselves." He nuzzles his nose against Kurt's lower back, kissing scratchily down until his chin is rubbing the place where the curves meet.

"Oh, god," Kurt whimpers, twitching a little, shaking even more.

Blaine thumbs the backs of his thighs, mouth literally watering with the desire to taste. "Can I...?"

"Yes, god, yes, please--"

It takes a lot of restraint to go slow, kissing every inch of softly-furred flesh, not stopping until Kurt's skin is a mess of goosebumps, raised hair, and scratchy red.

"Feels different, oh," Kurt whimpers, hips churning.

It does, and not just for Kurt; something about the extra sensation is making Blaine quake with a new kind of arousal, as well. He exhales over Kurt's ass, using his thumbs to touch and finally part his cheeks. He spreads Kurt open without any further hesitation, dragging the tip of his tongue from top to bottom over his cleft.

"Oh my god."

"Mmm." He repeats the soft licking passes until Kurt's skin is wet and glistening and only then does he kiss broadly over that twitching pucker. 

"Oh my god, please--"

Another kiss, and another, and then a kiss with tongue, lashing over Kurt's hole with a hungry moan that vibrates almost silently across his skin. Blaine loves doing this, loves the way Kurt shakes and babbles, loves the way that he tastes, earthy and salty-sharp. It's so intimate, and the fact that Kurt trusts him enough to let him close--

Kurt goes loose so sweetly, thighs quivering, spreading, hips going soft, body just melting into Blaine's mouth.

Blaine licks hard and fast over him just once before pushing his tongue inside.

"Blaine," Kurt whimpers, writhing back onto him.

He rocks side to side, working his tongue inside, letting his stubble-covered cheeks rake all of that baby soft skin until it's pink and then finally red by the time he has his tongue as deep as it can go. Kurt rocks back into him rhythmically, a sheen of sweat popping across his back as he bends and thrusts.

He pulls back a little, licking hungrily at the crinkle of flesh. "Touch yourself for me," he breathes, biting gentle little nips down Kurt's cheek.

"If you keep doing that," Kurt replies, voice rough and broken. "Please keep doing that."

Blaine buries his face back in between Kurt's cheeks, letting himself go a little; nibbles and rough licks and kisses and finally his tongue licking inside again, cheeks and jaw scraping mercilessly over Kurt's sensitive skin as he turns and thrusts his tongue in repetitive patterns.

Kurt begins to breath loudly as he strokes himself in time with Blaine's tongue. 

"Yeah," Blaine breathes, rocking into it. "Come on, just like that." He pulls back, rubbing his thumb over the now loosened hole, watching it gape and then close around the pad of the digit. He can't believe how much the friction of his stubble has done to Kurt's skin--he looks mauled, the flesh on the inside of his thighs and between his cheeks a bright, angry series of patches.

It's almost hotter than actually seeing it, watching Kurt's arm flex as he pulls himself off, his balls swaying as he goes faster, clutching the vanity with one hand.

"Don't--god." He gasps, thighs spreading, ass pushing back. "Put something in--please, just--so close."

Panting, aching in his too-tight jeans, Blaine rubs over his hole until Kurt is opening for him again, then spits down over his thumb and presses, holding his breath as it sinks inside to the hilt. God, Kurt's body just taking it like that, opening up around his finger--

"Oh god, oh god," Kurt gasps, bending in half and thrusting wildly.

"Good?" he breathes, kissing the curve of one cheek, then licking around the swollen rim of his hole, teasing the flesh with flicks and jabs. "You look so hot right now--"

"Don't stop," Kurt says, fisting himself faster. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh god."

He doesn't stop, but he also can't resist reaching down to pop the button on his jeans and slide a hand over himself at the same time. It's just too much, to watch Kurt ride his finger and jerk himself off and not do something. He's so close, just from rubbing against the tight denim, and he falls forward, letting his forehead rest on Kurt's back as he works a second finger into Kurt's ass and touches himself at the same time.

"Are you--"

"Yes, god, I can't wait, is that okay?"

"I'm going to come," Kurt replies, whimpering as he bends over the sink and falls apart, ass clenching, thighs shaking, his body jerking as he fills the drain of the sink with pearly jolts of come.

Blaine surges up, pressing his fingers down and in, letting them rake over Kurt's prostate. With his other hand he works himself fast and hard, biting out a sharp cry when he comes without warning, all over Kurt's beard burn painted cheeks and back. He lets himself go, lets the shaft of his cock grind between Kurt's abused cheeks, smearing come over the angry scratches and leaving weak, secondary trails of come all over Kurt's twitching hole.

"Oh my god, Blaine," Kurt cries, Blaine's fingertips over his prostate dragging several gushes of clear fluid from the head of his cock. He takes his time, teasing and edging until Kurt is literally broken, clutching the sink, slumped over it as if it's the only thing keeping him upright. 

"God," Blaine breathes, staring down at the mess he's made; Kurt's scratched up skin, the pajamas around his ankles, the shirt tossed onto the back of the toilet, his come everywhere.

"That felt--" Kurt pants, shaking, coming up vertical in Blaine's arms. He's wet and it surprises him, obviously, and he turns, using the angle of the mirror to stare at his skin and his spread, open ass and Blaine's come. "God. You are--" He breaks off, pulling Blaine against him and into a rough kiss. He licks over Blaine's cheek and jaw, then bites at his earlobe. "Love this. Keep it, okay?"

Blaine can't stop grinning and blushing. "Sir, yes, sir."

After all, it's certainly no longer a hardship.


End file.
